Happy Birthday to You

A few months back, during the winter, a large group of people came in for a birthday party. They brought a cake. Even though this means lost dessert sales, we allow it and we furnish plates and silverware so the dishwasher has something to do.

During the winter we run a skeleton crew. That night there were two servers, one hostess/cashier, one cook and one dishwasher and we were packed and wait-listed. Not one of us had time to slap our ass with both hands. Since this group was large in more than numbers, they were seated in the table section, which was mine.

Everything went pretty well until the end of the meal when I realized the birthday they were celebrating was for a boy just turning eight. Who takes an eight year old to a sit down restaurant for a birthday? How about the bowling alley, or McDonald’s or the skating rink?

Since I was busy with other tables, the hostess/cashier took over the birthday portion for me. She got the plates and silverware and all that was left was the birthday song. The hostess, other server, and I decided to sing the quick birthday song because we did not have time for the traditional version. The quick version goes:

Happy, happy birthday
from the Bubba’s crew.
We wish it was our birthday
so we could party, too!
We all wished the boy a happy birthday and got back to work. It wasn’t until they were at the register that I realized they were pissed off. Apparently, we didn’t sing the right song in the right way. It seems the boy wanted me to stand on a table, get everyone’s attention and sing the slow, meandering, traditional version of Happy Birthday. And we should have had more people singing. Hello?! We don’t have more people. At the time, I was scheduled to have my gall bladder removed and was barely able to stand let alone climb up on a table. Furthermore, do I look like Ronald McGoddamned Donald?


Okay yeah, maybe a little when you consider the other two guys.
The kicker here was when the older woman threatened me and the boy’s mom screamed at me to divide the ticket, even though at the beginning of the order I asked, as I always do, if they wanted separate tickets. Then she screamed at me because I wasn’t doing it fast enough. Sorry, I’m just a dumbass waitress. Of course, they called the next day and complained and lied their asses off. Too bad for them we have a dining room camera and the manager could see they were full of shit.
These people were my first inductees into the Douch Bag Hall of Shame. Cheers!

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. darcknyt
    Jun 11, 2009 @ 17:04:29

    Gotta love people, huh? It's jackasses like this that ruin celebrations for everyone — even those who aren't involved.


  2. whatigotsofar
    Jun 28, 2010 @ 09:10:02

    The traditional Happy Birthday song is copyrighted material and therefore, if you sang it, your restaurant is required to pay for the rights to sing it. That is why no restaurant sings that song. By singing that song as a service to the restaurant patrons, you should be paying royalties to the song’s owner. Most people don’t know this.

    Also, this is why you rarely ever hear that song on television and in movies.

    HAHA! I never thought of that. I’ll have to pass that on the next time someone is a jackass.

    BTW-those same people decided to have a birthday party at the restaurant a few weeks ago. They did NOT ask me to sing or to be their birthday clown. I guess they learned something.


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